


On the Train

by Chocolt_Pud



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29798904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolt_Pud/pseuds/Chocolt_Pud
Kudos: 1





	On the Train

I awoke from my slumber and turned my alarm off.

Getting up and trudging towards the kitchen in my flat based in Notting Hill and putting the coffee machine on. As usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. I started sipping on my drink and put the daily news in the background and looked out my window. As I filed through my wardrobe picking up a plain shirt and trousers with a tie and blazer. I mimicked the news presenter's voice as I picked out my watch for the day. I picked up my scarf with my coat and vintage hat and started heading to Holland park station.

I saw her walk in the carriage. Her milky white skin. Her sweet smile and black hair tied into a plait. A slight dusting of blush on her cheeks appeared when she looked at me. _A small ego boost._ I followed her swaying hips into the carriage.

She's sitting there young, beautiful, _alone_. Vulnerable. Everything a woman should be. I sat opposite her, she opened a poetry book that she had drawn from her bag. As she's reading her book, she had her legs crossed and showing maybe an inch or two of thigh. Warm, soft, _smooth_ , white thigh. Her eyes flicker. She doesn't look up from her book, then as I look up to admire her, she just stared even harder into her book but I know that she's not really reading it. Her legs started shaking to the rhythm of the train and I wanted to put my hand up there on her soft white thigh just to stop it from shaking, however, if I did that she would look at me she would smile she’d know, she’d just know my true intentions.. Her legs slightly shake due to the movement hitching her skirt higher and higher. I took small glances at her every so often to see if she had noticed me. I slightly touched her calf with my foot producing a flinch from the beautiful girl. I got up and opened the window and my legs brushed hers and she made another little movement showing a little bit more. As I sat back down, this time next to her I asked _“where are you going?” “London Waterloo,”_ she answered, _“ how about you?” “Me too, what a coincidence that our timetables coincide with one another,”_ I let out with a chuckle. I wasn't really going to Waterloo but she, the naive girl didn't know that. She nodded in response. As we carried out our smalltalk, I could see that her blood pressure had risen. My mind had started running with ideas on how to corrupt the sweet angel in front of me. I closed my eyes and got rid of those dirty thoughts. However with every clunk of the train my mind started saying things. at first it was small and just a whisper but then it got louder till it was screaming in my ear. “Kill the bitch!”, **“Kill the bitch!”, “KILL THE BITCH!”**.

Whoosh

I gripped my hands around her neck. I reached into my blazer pocket and retrieved a knife. I pressed it against her back as I held my other hand. I could feel her blood pressure rise throughout her body as the heart of the young girl beat so fast that it could shatter at any moment. Icloudnt take the irritating noise of her heart beat and her short staggered breath anymore, so with one swift motion I had sliced her neck leaving her with a large gash. “That's going to be a pain to clean up” I retorted while looking down at the girl's face. Hers was left with a scared look in her eyes and an open mouth, whereas my face held a sinister smirk.

I knew that ** _I_** did nothing wrong.

It was ** _just_** healthy aggression taken to an extent.

 ** _She_ **needed a correction in behavior.

 ** _She_** needed a punishment so to speak.

 ** _She_** deserved it.


End file.
